


When Glitter Attacks

by oly_chic



Series: Prowl x Jazz LJ Community 2015 Annual Challenge [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Challenge Response, Gen, Humor, Virtual Reality, mean-spirited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 09:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4872376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oly_chic/pseuds/oly_chic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only Sideswipe can make glitter a torture weapon.</p>
<p>Too bad he didn’t think there’s more ways for officers to get back at him without worrying about protocols.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Glitter Attacks

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers.**  
>   
> 
> This is for the Prowl x Jazz LJ Community 2015 annual challenge. Click [here](http://prowlxjazz.livejournal.com/926239.html) for the challenge prompt's post, or see story end notes for the condensed version.
> 
> ****CLARIFICATION:** I had a four-day emergency and was going to miss my post day for the challenge, but post-day afternoon, my Sideswipe muse reared up and baited me for posting this hopingly-self-contained abridged version. Without giving anything away for this, the original version had a mystery why the fighters were coming out of recharge darker than when they went in, and Jazz  & Prowl had to investigate by masking themselves as Sunny & Sides in recharge. So if Sideswipe seems meaner than you'd think, that's because I didn't get it completely self-contained :(
> 
>  
> 
> **Time:**  
>  Klik = Cybertronian operating equivalent of a second  
> Breem = "" minute  
> Joor = "" hour  
> Orn = "" day  
> 

Two commlink pings, a pause, then one more. Ironhide’s special signal to Prowl that he was bringing in a frequent offender who’d done something with Ironhide’s weapons. Prowl sighed from his half-standing position by his desk. _So_ close to leaving and getting recharge.

Prowl resumed his normal posture for working long joors during times of low enemy activity. These were when he spent the most at his desk because everyone had time to request replenished supplies, speedily use up their consumables (such as excess polishing), or be dragged to his office for improper solutions to the boredom.

Prowl finally responded to Ironhide’s commlink warning. ::Who’s done what now?::

::Sideswipe. You’ll need a moment to collect yourself for this one. I know I did.::

Fantastic, Prowl’s recharge time was moving further back by the breem. He may be a frontline warrior with a preference of speaking through fists and fire, but when in trouble Sideswipe could spin tales worthy of even Kup. ::What’s he done now? Does he have, or do you suspect he has accomplices?::

::We’ll be there in 2 breems. Just him.::

A small mercy. Ironhide gave him the quick version of how he caught Sideswipe trying to booby-trap certain minibots’ training weapons with a rather stubborn paint, completed with a follow-up glitter bomb to explode during the few kliks the paint was still tacky. If Sideswipe had better discipline with regulations, Prowl would have him as part of tactical. The unaccountable creativeness followed by the self-discipline to create, pack, and set those traps all marked a very capable mind. Too bad it was also the mind of a high-energy rebellious fighter, who’d turn the datapad on regulations into an explosive device and fling it at Decepticons.

His door opened and a pair of red bodies crossed the threshold, one pushing the other. Sideswipe stumbled forward as if he’d been roughly handled over the long walk. Prowl knew better.

“Sideswipe,” Prowl began, his curt business tone expertly hiding his tiredness, “you have two options: plead guilty since you were caught in the act and I’ll give you half the brig time; do your usual song-and-dance and there will be no forgiveness in the sentence. Either way you’ll be helping Ironhide clean everything. I’m also banning you from glitter. You were already on probation after mixing it with Track’s wax.”

Why the frontliner loved glitter so much Prowl didn’t know, but Jazz gave him a few clues. Part of it was its abrasive nature that drove the vainer mechs crazy whenever Sideswipe described the images of jagged metallic objects dragging across their skin plating and into joints – trapped in place by wax. Supposedly Sideswipe used it to threaten Sunstreaker more than once, promising to put the clearest and tiniest of his stash in the twin’s polish. In Sideswipe’s hands, what was used to gussy up a kindergartner’s birthday party was turned into a weapon of lingering torment.

Almost predictably the frontliner wilted, horror exaggerated across his pleading face. “Please don’t take away one of the few things human culture has done to make this war less spark-crushing.”

“Drown your sorrows in your eBay account. Be happy I don’t take that from you.”

“You only let me have that so long as I don’t sell Autobot things and keep track of Swindle’s activities. Even then you regularly go through my order records to know exactly what I get.”

Ironhide grumbled, “Sides, are you pleading guilty? I need to know when to expect you to for cleaning out that slag out of my weapons and training facilitiy.”

Prowl quirked an optic ridge. “Don’t tell me one of them went off.”

Sideswipe shrugged. “Hide should’ve known better than to surprise a mech while holding a loaded weapon.”

Ironhide shoved Sideswipe’s shoulder. “Prowl, send his punishment schedule to my inbox. I’d prefer it if you’d schedule it around him undoing his damage.”

“Very well. Dismissed, Ironhide.” Prowl turned to Sideswipe as he settled down in one of the chairs. “What’s it going to be, Sideswipe?”

“I was only trying to undo what someone else did. You know how many mechs have problems with those minibots, and some know the whereabouts of my glitter reserves. Guess I should’ve hidden my stash better, because now I’m the victim of being framed…”

|||||

Sideswipe entered the virtual-reality world, created for their minds to occupy while their frames recharged and defragged. The world was a mesh of Cybertron and Earth, highlighting all of the fond times they once held of their home planet, weaving them with their new world’s gifts and scenes.

He uploaded straight into a small, peachy, well-lit café that to an unaware observer was a quiet shop, operating at non-peak joors. Sideswipe, Tracks, and Brawn were the only three patrons, to that unaware observer, with the staff somewhere in back. The truth was that Optimus commissioned Wheeljack and Perceptor to redo the VR brig into something less entrapping to those within it. The 3 lonely patrons were really 3 incarcerated Autobots, unable to do anything but watch their teammates pass by the windows. Anyone using the staff area was really officers checking on them, or perhaps even pulling them out.

Sideswipe sat down and watched the staff entrance. He ticked off Prowl pretty good, to the point the tactician interrupted his artful recollection of the events leading to Ironhide’s surprise catch. Normally Prowl waited him out and then used every flaw in the story to add another count of false testimony against Sideswipe. Most would stop but Sideswipe took it as a challenge to see how many of his twisted tales Prowl could catch. Given the snapped interruption and the time, there was a chance Prowl would visit to further berate him, disrupting what tiny peace there was to be found in the warmly-colored café, even among the sully and vain.

More than a quarter of Sideswipe’s recharge cycle passed when an officer did appear, gesturing at Sideswipe to indicate his intentions. Rather than the officer being the stoic SIC, however, it was a bouncing TIC. Sideswipe’s lips pursed in confusion as he canted his helm, but he rose with the gesture. “Jazz? To what do I owe this visit?”

The black-and-white tilted his helm backwards. “Come, and you’ll see.” He opened the counter top where energon servers would pass through to the kitchen. Sideswipe obliged, tossing a cocky smile back at Brawn. Tracks was too far behind him for discrete smugness. The minibot scowled but said nothing.

When Sideswipe entered the kitchen an orange bracelet appeared on his wrist, tethering him to the mech in front of him, making it impossible for breaking away. Sideswipe followed the mech out to the street. When his “owner” transformed Sideswipe felt a tug on his wrist, forcing him to transform as well.

As they drove in silence Sideswipe took the time to scan the surroundings for Prowl. Near the edge of the town was a small karaoke bar, the door propped open. Sideswipe could hear the silver mech on stage belting out tunes with more finesse than he’d expect from such an outgoing dancer. Probably another one of the AIs Jazz had Wheeljack load into the VR for improved social morale.

Sideswipe’s awareness of such details was secondary because sitting at the far end of the bar, opposite of the singing AI and barely within the window, was Prowl. A blue haze glowed about him, signaling to all that Prowl was not to be disturbed.

Sideswipe was pleased; it took a lot of specialness to get that far under Prowl’s skin plating. His brother called Sideswipe’s lust for such an “honoree” title as proof that he was the dumber twin; Sideswipe claimed he was reminding Prowl what it was like to live, icky ranges of emotions and all, rather than to be an emotionless desk drone.

The pair pulled to a tree line, where the simulation marked a very Earth-based section of the simulation. Upon stopping, the leader transformed and waited for the Lamborghini to do the same. A visor-wearing face grinned and pointed to the tree line. “Past there.”

“You want me to take the lead?”

“Think of it as I want you to have the first surprise.”

“Ooookay…” Sideswipe slowly and awkwardly agreed, hesitantly taking the front. A few steps had him in the tree line, and only a few more had him on the other side of it. The VR’s renderings of the trees masked the opposite side up until he stepped out.

“What the Pit?!” Sideswipe gaped at the hills around him, all covered in glitter and confetti. Plastic bits, metal flakes, wispy flying paper cutouts, and all things Sideswipe envied for the jumping joys or crawling hells they created.

His companion sidestepped around him. “Theory is, Sideswipe, that even a ban on glitter won’t stop you. During your interrogation over the latest glitter-based prank, there were some things you said that indicated an interest in glitter-bombing Prowl’s quarters while he recharged. We all know that banning you from the stuff won’t stop you, so I’m here to one-up you. You’re thinking of glitter-traumatizing Prowl while he recharges? I’m glitter-traumatizing you _in_ your recharge.”

Ah, so that’s why Prowl cut him off. Sideswipe frowned his disappointment, displeased that he gave too many hints and allowed Prowl to detect his next intentions. “A field of glitter isn’t traumatizing. I’m thinking of making glitter angels because it’s all so pretty.”

“You like to trap glitter on mechs’ bodies. Sure, that’s plenty fine to do to a Decepticon, but not to anyone else. See that red key, glowing in the distance?” The black-and-white pointed to the horizon, at a spot as far away from them by ped as possible.

“Sure.”

“When you uploaded, you were tagged by a specialized code. Let’s call it the ‘anti-waking up code.’ Without that key, you won’t be able to come out of recharge by yourself. Go get that key, and then take it back to the café so you can logoff.”

“Oh _no_ , that means I must go through the glitter,” the troublemaker falsely bemoaned. “Oh woe is me, for all the – ”

“Shut it, Sideswipe.” The hand dropped but the grin decorating the officer’s face took a decidedly devilish turn. One that red mech had shown Prowl a few times. “A very special code also exists here, involving each piece of glitter. Once you come into contact, or in some cases close proximity, of those glittery confections, they’ll attach themselves to you. You’ll feel glitter tearing at your skin plates, optics, muscle cables, joints, and even causing little shorts in your electrical connections.”

Now Sideswipe really did gasp, all humor evaporated. The remaining hole was filled with true dread and lit ablaze by anger. “You can’t do that!”

“Take it up with Prowl when you’re done. You saw where he sat. Until you touch that key, you can’t backtrack unless I do, and I’m not going to. March on forward, my lovely devil.”

Gnashing his denta together, Sideswipe began his slow decent into that glittery pit, having to start downhill first. Stars and unicorn-shaped confetti waited for him, twinkling like innocent smiles. When he was a mere step away from touching the edge of pile Sideswipe could see the true cause for the twinkling: serrated surfaces.

He wanted to look back at his taunter, to beg to be let go or given some other punishment. Even to angrily point out “cruel and unusual punishment,” something he knew existed in the regulations book. He quoted it frequently whenever an officer threatened to leave him in the brig until the next Decepticon attack in need of a frontliner. He’d save that argument, though, to bring to Prowl and Prime’s attention for this torment. He’d bring down an officer for sinking to his level, just as they would to him.

The walk was torturous as he felt the stars and unicorns begin attacking him. Soon the flying paper-confetti attached itself to his optics, irritating the lining between the optic and the socket. More and more brightly-colored glitter and child-like confections attacked him, from sports-theme to princess-theme, and even some clowns. Every piece did as described, getting inside him and piling on top of him, until moving was a labored pain from the weight and friction. When a red glow pierced the paper he blindly reached out until the tips of his fingers brushed the key.

Suddenly all sparkling evidence of the nightmare disappeared. Sideswipe cycled his optics, rubbed at his audios to see if any bits were stuck, and then whipped around to glare at the offending figure. His glare went unfelt as it pierced only air.

Grasping the miniaturized key in hand, he started stepping back the way he came. Fear stopped him cold and he growled. The damage was done as his torturer wanted. He feared seeing those tiny charms and knew from the freezing fear he wouldn’t be able to look at his own stash. Why Jazz went after him, and why so cruelly he didn’t know, but he knew Prowl couldn’t ignore broken regulations.

He transformed and took off at high speed, thinking as hard as possible about engine upgrades and only engine upgrades. Twice he nearly skidded on the grassy hills, as the VR seemed remarkably aware of keeping true to Lamborghini tires on unpaved grounds, but he tried as hard as possible to not think of it as the slippery surfaces of the tinniest of glitters.

He made it back to the logon/logoff town, now with about a third of its population gone, having rejoined the real world. He marched through the propped door and headed straight towards Prowl, no longer blue and chatting amicably to that silver singer now serving drinks.

Sideswipe announced his presence by slamming the key next to the drinking Prowl. Neither jumped, looking only mildly surprised. Prowl finished his drink. “Yes?”

“I want to report Jazz for breaking Section 2012, Paragraph 44.” He glared steadily at Prowl, accenting his point by dragging a bar stool.

“A very serious accusation. When did he violate that code?” Prowl’s optics focused entirely on Sideswipe while the silver mech pouted but decided to wipe down the bar.

“Just now.”

“Just now, as is while you’re now in recharge?”

“Yeah,” Sideswipe huffed.

“I’m sorry, but that code violation doesn’t apply.”

“Excuse me?!” the red mech practically shouted.

“Section 2012 falls under regulation book 84, which applies only to the real world. It cannot be applied to a virtual reality.”

“That’s not possible! He broke rules and tormented me. You’re the walking rule book, now do your fracking-Prime-appointed duty.”

Prowl shook his helm. “I’m sorry Sideswipe, but only regulation book 32 applies to Autobot officer behavior during virtual-reality worlds. That book was written long ago and never properly maintained. If you want to write a full report I can investigate it, but there’s nothing that corresponds to 84.2012.44.”

“Well, what does book 32 say? Or any book on any behavior in the VR about torturing soldiers?”

“Largely it does not. To borrow some of your words when bending the rules, the book frowns but does not punish.”

“How can that be?!” The dispassionate dismissal almost had Sideswipe yelling.

“Optimus never got around to appointing a team for that, leaving the works from Sentinel’s team untouched. I can add to the pile of things to address, perhaps if I’m given enough peace? Sentinel’s teams did use many shortcuts and questionable ways. Deciphering any unfinished notes and practically rewriting the entire book will take significant effort.”

“Are you extorting me?” He couldn’t believe it.

“Of course not. Unless I am missing a regulation somewhere, I cannot retroactively apply any new regulations I might make, so I cannot extort you over filing against Jazz. Nothing can be done about what happened now. Whether or not you’re willing to allow me the time to make it punishable in the future is up to you.” For good measure, Prowl finished his drink and turned his back to Sideswipe as he handed the glass to the silver mech. “Please refill that.”

Sideswipe growled. He snarled. He smashed the key against the bar surface, only to stop in his wordless rage when he heard a cracking noise. How this key worked he didn’t know, but if it was coded to behave and _break_ like a real key, then it was time to go before he did something regrettable.

When the enraged mech disappeared, the silver mech laughed and handed Prowl his drink. “I gotta stop letting you take my body-avatar out for a spin. What did you do to him?”

A small smile passed Prowl’s lips, along with his drink. “But Jazz, how else will you keep others from realizing your passion for hiding in plain sight as the partying and singing bartender? I did little to him, besides teaching him the value of knowing regulations, as well as their shortcomings.”

Prowl _tsk’d tsk’d_ as he sat down the glass. “It’s just _too bad_ I _never_ have time to update those shortcomings. I must say, though, it’s always quite the exhilaration of handing my troubles right back to him; quite the reminder of the importance of living beyond my desk.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **LJ Prompt:**  
>  _"Cybertronian recharging involves plugging yourself into the main computer system for proper defragmentation. While your processor gets recharged, your consciousness is put into a virtual reality world created by the main computer system._  
> 
> _Cybertronians can interact with others plugged into the system or choose not to interact with any other recharging mech. This system is controlled by artificial intelligence and reacts according to each mech’s needs/wishes/desires._
> 
> _In this VR world, Cybertronians can use their holo avatars to become anything/anyone they want._
> 
> _This can be based in any verse but your fic should primarily revolve around the virtual reality world and whatever holo avatar our black and whites choose to take."_
> 
> (I'd classify this as a Prowl-only)


End file.
